Alone (Detective D.D. Warren, #1)(49)
“I believe she spent the night with a friend.”
“A boyfriend?” For the first time, the blonde spoke up. She was regarding Catherine sharply. “She often spend Thursday night with him?”
“She's often out all night,” Catherine conceded.
“Convenient,” the blonde murmured.
Catherine ignored her.
“And your son?” Investigator Doomsday said. “How did he end up being part of the altercation?”
“Nathan had awakened shortly after ten from a nightmare. I had just gone into his room to comfort him, when I heard Jimmy downstairs. I could tell . . . I could already tell that it wouldn't be good.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I could tell he'd been drinking. By the way he slammed the door. By the way he started shouting my name. Nathan, of course, immediately became more frightened.”
Not that he said anything. Nathan never said anything. He'd simply stared at her with those too-solemn blue eyes, his thin young body already braced, waiting. Jimmy was home, Jimmy was drunk. Jimmy was bigger than both of them.
She had wanted so much more for her son. That's what she'd been thinking on Thursday night, when Jimmy slammed the door, when Jimmy started yelling, when Jimmy headed for the stairs. She had looked down into Nathan's eyes and been terrified by the sight of her own hopeless gaze reflecting back at her.
“When did Jimmy get the gun?” the ADA was asking.
“I don't know.”
“Where did he get the gun?”
“I don't know.”
“He came up the stairs with it?”
“Yes.”
“He waved it at you and Nathan?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do, Mrs. Gagnon?”
“I told him to put the gun away. I told him he was scaring Nathan.”
“And what did he do?”
“He laughed, Mr. Copley. He said he wasn't the threat to Nathan in this house, that I was.”
“What did he mean by that?”
She shrugged. “Jimmy was drunk. Jimmy didn't know what he was saying.”
“And what was Nathan doing when all of this was going on?”
“Nathan was . . .” Her voice snagged, she forced herself to continue. “Nathan was in my lap. He had his head pressed against my shoulder so he wouldn't have to see his father. He had his hands over his ears. I told Jimmy I was going to put Nathan to bed in our room. I asked him to please calm down, he was frightening our child. Then I walked past him to our room. The minute I got inside, I locked the door and called nine-one-one.”
“Is that when Jimmy fired the gun?”
“I don't remember.”
“Neighbors reported two shots fired.”
“Did they?”
Copley's eyebrows rose. “You're saying you're not sure if your husband fired the gun?”
“I wasn't focused on Jimmy at that time. I was focused on Nathan. He was scared out of his mind.”
Mommy, are we going to die? Turn on the lights, Mommy. We need lights.
“Did Jimmy ever hurt you or your son before this?”
“Jimmy threw stuff when he was angry. Sometimes . . . We had some troubles in our marriage.”
“Troubles in your marriage?” The blonde again, sounding sarcastic. “Uniformed patrols were coming here every other week to respond to complaints. Except things were finally reaching the point of no return, weren't they, Mrs. Gagnon—Jimmy had filed for divorce.”
Catherine regarded her coolly. “True.”
“He had the money,” the blonde pressed. “He had the power. First the guy had been abusing you, now he was setting things up to screw you royally. Frankly, no one here can blame you for being a little pissed off.”
“We had issues. It didn't mean we were beyond help.”
“Puuuhhhllleeez. This guy beat you. This guy yelled and threw things at your kid. Why would you even want to work it out?”
“Obviously, you never met Jimmy.”
“Obviously, it didn't matter once you did, because you were still willing to play hide-the-stethoscope with your son's doctor.”
Catherine flinched. “That's crude.”
“You did see Dr. Rocco in the end, didn't you?”
“Nathan had an attack of acute pancreatitis on Friday. Of course I saw Dr. Rocco.”
“Did the doc miss you? Want you back? Jimmy's gone now. . . .”
“I'm insulted by that insinuation. My husband's body is barely cold—”
“Barely cold? You helped get him killed!”
“How? By being used as target practice?”
The blonde moved to the edge of the sofa. Her questions shot out rapid-fire. “Who started the argument Thursday night? Who first brought up Dr. Rocco?”
“I did. Nathan wasn't feeling well.”
“So you decided to mention your past lover to your jealous husband?”
“He was Nathan's doctor!”
“You kept your past lover as Nathan's doctor when you had a jealous, abusive husband?”
Catherine blinked her eyes, faltered, and tried frantically to regain footing. “Nathan doesn't like new doctors. New doctors mean new tests. I couldn't put him through that.”